Claimed by the Disguised Alpha King
My brother and his wife slapped the contract on the table, forcing me to marry Alpha Stone. He was a cruel monster known for breaking his mates' bones, and I was just the price for a new trade route.
Right before I surrendered, the legendary Blackwood Pack arrived. But they didn't offer a glorious rescue. They claimed I was the fated mate of Kaelan, a disgraced, wolfless Omega.
My family laughed in my face, eagerly taking the dowry and throwing me out like garbage. They mocked my miserable future, sending me off to a crumbling shack in the woods. When they later summoned us back to publicly demand a humiliating "tribute" to bleed us dry, they waited for me to break.
"Couldn't handle life in a shack with an Omega? Come crawling back already?" my sister-in-law sneered.
But I refused to let them shame him. I didn't understand why the Moon Goddess gave me an Omega, but Kaelan was kind, giving me the only bed while he slept on the cold floor. Why did my family value a cruel Alpha over a gentle soul? I declared to their faces that his loyal spirit was worth more than any title.
Then, a vicious rogue wolf threatened us at the local market.
My "wolfless" husband stepped in front of me and grabbed the rogue's wrist.
Suddenly, a suffocating, terrifying Alpha King's aura exploded from Kaelan, bringing the rogue to his knees in pure terror.
I stared at my quiet, supposedly weak mate in absolute shock. Who exactly did I marry?
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Chapter 5
Elara Vance POV:
In the days that followed, a quiet rhythm settled over our lives. I cleaned the small cabin until it shone, placing a jar of wildflowers on the windowsill to bring a bit of color to the spartan room. It started to feel less like a shelter and more like a home.
Kaelan was a silent but steady presence. He would leave at dawn to hunt, always returning with enough fresh meat to keep us fed. We didn't talk much, but we moved around each other with an easy, unspoken understanding.
One afternoon, he returned from the hunt to find me standing by the door, my arms crossed, a worried frown on my face.
"Faye sent a messenger," I told him, my voice tight. "She demands we present ourselves at the Vance house to receive our 'pack tribute'."
Kaelan's eyes, usually so calm, flashed with a cold light. He knew as well as I did this wasn't about tribute. It was about humiliation.
"Do we have to go?" I asked, dread coiling in my stomach. "You know they're just planning to make a scene."
He set down the rabbits he'd caught and looked at me, his expression firm. "We are mates. We will face our pack responsibilities together. We'll go." His confidence was a balm to my own fear.
The living room at the Vance house was set up like a stage for a public execution. Faye and Clara sat like queens on the sofa, with a handful of other pack members gathered to watch the show.
"Oh, look who decided to show up," Clara chirped, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "I was beginning to think you were too ashamed to leave your little hovel in the woods."
Faye gestured to a pack warrior, who brought forward a heavy, iron-bound chest and dropped it on the floor with a loud thud.
"As per pack tradition," Faye announced, her voice dripping with false authority, "newly bonded pairs must offer a tribute to their Alpha to show their loyalty and earn their place."
This was a lie. It was a blatant shakedown, a rule she had invented on the spot to extort and shame us.
I felt my body tremble with rage. Lyra snarled in my mind, wanting to be let out, to rip the smug looks off their faces. I was about to scream at them when Kaelan placed a firm hand on my shoulder, a silent command to be still.
He stepped forward, his gaze level and calm. "What is the tribute?"
Clara answered, practically shouting. "Given your… combined status, you will provide double the standard hunter's share to the pack stores each month. And Kaelan will turn over half of any earnings he makes. For the pack's protection, of course."
The other pack members shifted uncomfortably, whispering amongst themselves. The terms were impossibly harsh, designed to bleed us dry.
Faye stared at me, a cruel, triumphant smile on her face. This was her victory lap, her way of showing me the price of choosing a 'worthless' Omega.
My control was slipping. But before I could lunge, my own voice surprised me. It was clear and strong, ringing through the tense silence.
I didn't look at Faye or Clara. I looked at Kaelan, my mate, and my voice filled with a pride I didn't know I possessed.
"My mate, Kaelan," I began, my words slow and deliberate, "may not hold a high rank in your eyes. But he possesses a wealth you could never comprehend."
Clara laughed her ugly, barking laugh. "Wealth? Do you mean that collapsing shack you call a home?"
I shook my head, a small, confident smile touching my lips. "No. I mean his spirit. He has a spirit that is loyal, and kind, and respectful. That is more valuable than any Alpha title or piece of land."
I finally turned my gaze to Faye, my eyes hard as stone. "The Moon Goddess chooses our mates based on the strength of our souls, not the rank of our wolves. By demanding this tribute, are you questioning her divine wisdom?"
The accusation hung in the air. To question the Goddess was heresy. Faye's face turned a blotchy, ugly red.
I felt Kaelan stiffen beside me. I risked a glance at him and saw pure shock on his face. His carefully constructed mask had slipped. He had expected me to be ashamed of him, I realized—perhaps everyone had. Instead, here I was, in front of everyone, declaring his soul priceless.
Before Faye could recover, Kaelan took my hand, his grip firm and warm. "Our tribute is our loyalty to the Goddess," he said, his voice a low growl. "We're leaving."
He pulled me toward the door, and we walked out into the bright afternoon sun, leaving a room full of stunned silence behind us. He didn't let go of my hand. For the first time, I knew his touch wasn't just for show. It was real.
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9.0
I died alone in the medical wing giving birth to our son.
"Tell her to calm down and stop the theatrics."
Those were the last words my mate, the Alpha, said about me while I bled out.
Instead of passing on, my soul was tethered to the packhouse. I was forced to watch my best friend Seraphina seamlessly step into my life, taking my baby and my husband before my body was even cold.
To secure her place, she planted my blood-soaked birthing blanket in the woods to frame me for faking my own kidnapping.
Ryker swallowed her lies completely. He refused to send a search party, telling the entire pack my disappearance was just a pathetic plea for attention and money.
As a helpless ghost, I watched Seraphina brainwash my one-year-old son into calling her his mother and teach him to joyfully trample my beloved garden.
"Bad mommy ran away. Don't love Kaelen."
Hearing my own child parrot those venomous words was a dagger to my soul.
Whenever anyone questioned my absence, Ryker fiercely defended her, dismissing the desperate warnings of my loyal friends and his own elders.
The man I loved and died for treated my memory like a malicious joke, grateful for an excuse to replace me while living with my murderer.
But when Seraphina's mask finally slipped, and the horrifying truth of my death crashed down on him, it was far too late.
Seeing him crumble in agonizing regret brought me no comfort.
I no longer wanted his love or his desperate apologies.
Now, I only wanted his absolute ruin.
8.7
Explicit 18+ | Reader Discretion Strongly Advised
Dark themes, noncon/dubcon, extreme kink, power imbalance, group dynamics, knotting, overstimulation, and possessive claiming ahead.
A brutal omegaverse world. Warring packs. Rare silver-eyed omega Kai Voss lives hidden until a midnight raid destroys his safety.
The most feared triad captures him: Thorne Blackwood, a pierced sadist who pushes limits; Aurelius Voss, the volatile second, his knot pulsing with hunger; Cassian Reyes, the silent, amber-eyed observer whose fixation vows complete ownership. Dragged to their mountain den, Kai becomes their prize.
Defiant and sharp-tongued, Kai resists every command. His body betrays him with slick, aching need. On the first night, the alphas take him, one by one, then together. They stretch him past reason. Knot him impossibly. Fill him until his rim thins visibly. Slick eases the searing burn into shattering pleasure.
"Room for one more?" Thorne growls, forcing his pierced length beside the two already locked inside. He drags across sensitive spots until Kai arches, tears falling, his body yielding as omega instincts beg for more.
Three cocks locked and throbbing, owning him entirely.
"Fuck, he's taking us all," Aurelius groans.
Cassian watches silently, eyes blazing, plotting the next step to remake Kai forever.
Raw conquest becomes unbreakable obsession: relentless heats, punishments blending pain and ecstasy, jealous rivalries over cries, rare tenderness binding possession deeper.
Three ruthless alphas pursue the forbidden, shattering their defiant omega until he is stretched wide, ruined, reborn in their image. Relentless desire shows no mercy: tight entrances forced open, rimmed raw by impossible girths, slick-soaked and pulsing under unyielding ownership.
Hide and read in secret. Once the story begins, escape is impossible. Squirm. Ache. Hunger for every page.
DON'T BLAME ME WHEN YOU CAN'T STOP READING ALL 150 CHAPTERS ⚠️🔞‼️
9.4
Michael Carter is an undercover FBI agent on a mission to take down ruthless mafia king Fernando Ramírez-the man he believes killed his sister. But getting close to Fernando means playing a dangerous game, one where seduction and power blur the lines between enemy and lover.
When Michael uncovers a shocking truth, his thirst for revenge turns into a fight for something far more dangerous-his own heart. Now, torn between duty and desire, he must decide: destroy the man he swore to take down or surrender to the one thing he never saw coming.
Love has never been more lethal.
9.7
Eighteen months ago, the man I loved shattered my heart, claiming everything between us was a mistake. Now, he's back, a ghost of his former self, a rookie tryout in my pro esports team. And I will make him regret crawling back.
Clifton, captain of a legendary esports team, was secretly battling a severe wrist injury that threatened his career, every match a fight against his own body. He pushed through the pain, ignoring doctors' warnings, desperate to maintain his god-like status.
His world was already on the edge, but nothing prepared him for seeing Justice Terry again in the team basement. Justice, pale and trembling, his eyes wide with naked terror, was now a rookie tryout.
Clifton had spent a year and a half trying to forget that rainy Chicago alley, the raw revulsion in Justice's eyes, the whispered "it wasn't real" that had left him heartbroken. Justice had vanished, and Clifton had erased every trace. Now, the boy who once looked at him like he was the sun was back, flinching at his touch, displaying a deep, primal fear. Amidst sponsor pressure and whispers of being "washed," Clifton saw Justice's return as a chance for vengeance. He publicly humiliated Justice on a live stream, forcing him into a suicide mission, then coldly benched him.
Yet, the satisfaction never came. Instead, a hollow emptiness and a torrent of questions: What had truly happened in the past? Why was Justice here, and what trauma had carved such fear into his bones?
Clifton, unwilling to be fooled again, swore to uncover every secret and every lie. He would force Justice to explain why he had returned, even if it meant tearing down everything they both had left.
8.3
On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news.
He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city.
The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.”
For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets.
My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me.
So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts.
He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked.
He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree.
He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies.
9.5
Bridget left the office early on her anniversary, her pocket heavy with a custom velvet ring box meant for her fiancé.
But when she pushed open the bedroom door, she found him tangled in their bed with her best friend, Chloe.
"Bridget! Wait, it's not what it looks like!" Jacob stammered, his eyes wide with panic.
"Evidence," Bridget stated coldly, snapping a photo of their naked bodies before fleeing into the freezing New York night.
Desperate to numb the betrayal, she got blackout drunk at an underground lounge and threw herself at a dark, terrifyingly handsome stranger.
She woke up in a penthouse suite alone, finding only a limitless black credit card left on the nightstand.
Humiliated and feeling like a cheap escort, she ran away, swearing to forget the nightmare.
But the nightmare had just begun. When she rushed into the office, she discovered the stranger was Jevon Rocha—the ruthless billionaire CEO of her company.
He didn't fire her. Instead, he trapped her in a twisted, obsessive power game, forcing her into his private life and demanding she report to his penthouse.
Bridget couldn't understand why a ruthless billionaire was so dangerously fixated on a low-level employee.
Until she stumbled upon his secret social media account and saw a crayon drawing of a little kid, captioned with a single word: "Finally."
A wave of absolute horror washed over her. He wasn't just playing games; he was hiding a secret child and a messy, high-stakes family drama.
She refused to be the naive collateral damage in a billionaire's twisted life.
Trembling, Bridget hit "Block" on his profile, determined to escape his dangerous web.